Anchorless
by catOTPeeta
Summary: Pirate AU! On his hunt for treasure to win back the heart of his one true love, Peeta Mellark ends up stranded out at sea on a ship with a bunch of good-for-nothin' pirates, Cap'n Cato and his band of loyal Tributes. Naturally, chaos ensues.


**Anchorless (The Ship That Sailed) - Part 1**

**A/N:** I'd like to dedicate this to my usual co-writer Becca for her endless patience with me and my ramblings and to fadi25402702 whose reviews never fail to make me want to write more and write better. Thank you both so much, you're amazing.

* * *

Much like most villages built at the side of a busy harbour, the first thing that people tended to notice about The Seam was the rather distinctive smell of various different fish that clung about the air. You could always spot a tourist in a crowd of people because they would be the one with a wrinkled nose or hand pressed firmly over their mouths, trying hard not to choke on the stench. Not many visitors came to The Seam, though and, to the locals, the smell was just another part of daily life.

Three streets from the heart of the port (a left, forward around a hundred paces, another left and then the first right) was the town's only bakery. It was owned by the Mellark family, who were neither poor nor rich. Every morning, the baker and his three sons would wake up early and prepare the goods for selling.

Life was pretty simple for the four of them. They had a routine. The baker himself made the sweet treats like the cakes and scones while his oldest son churned out batches upon batches of bread with his steady, reliable hands. The middle son prepared pastry for the pies that the fishermen would, no doubt, demand later on in the evening as they brought in the catch of the day. The youngest son, Peeta, would ice the cakes and decorate them intricately with sugar frosting. His cakes always sold for the most.

Now, things should have continued on just like this for many years to come, until the baker was too old to work and the oldest son had to take over. They probably would have, too, had Katniss Everdeen not gone and gotten herself a boyfriend.

She was the epitome of beauty and grace, intelligence, assertiveness and quick wit. In short, the girl was perfect. Peeta had noticed this before anyone else, back when they were three on their first day of school. They'd grown up together, sort of, and he was just waiting for the right time to approach her, to make his move, to… to actually talk to her.

The problem was that, contrary to popular belief, slow and steady does not win the race, and nor do long and silent courtships that the object of your affection is completely unaware of. In fact, those are the two main reasons that Peeta lost the love of his life and allowed her to be swept off her feet by that lumbering buffoon, Gale Hawthorne.

He was the blacksmith's eldest son, with a chiseled jawline, coffee coloured hair that curled just perfectly and strong, handsome features and Peeta really, really hated him.

"Oh, Gale. You really are the most wonderful man in this village!" He heard Katniss gush happily as they skipped hand-in-hand past the little bakery one day. "I'm so glad that we're together at last."

The boy grinned his ten thousand watt smile back at her, flexed his bicep and then replied, "I know that, Catnip. I know." Next he spun her around, leant her back and dipped down low to place a long, lingering kiss on her lips.

If Peeta hadn't seen them in public before, he'd be sure that this hideous display had been designed just to taunt him. He had seen them in public before though, and he knew that they were always like this. It was talk of the town, actually, just how in love the pair of them were.

That wasn't the only thing that convinced him otherwise, though. Gale was a lot of things, but malicious wasn't one of them. He would never be cruel enough to flaunt the girl of someone's dreams right in front of their face and, aside from that, no one even knew that Peeta was truly, madly and deeply in love with Katniss. He hadn't gotten around to saying anything and, well. If he tried to make a move now, the other boy would most likely beat him to a pulp.

Sure, he wasn't cruel, but he wasn't all that kind either.

One thing he learned from the whole ordeal was that love is not measured in patience or quiet admiration. It's ruled by grand gestures and daring statements, putting yourself out on a limb and proving how much you care. It's about giving your everything and, Peeta knew, if he had any chance of getting his girl back, it would take everything he had and then some.

* * *

The Plan To Win Back His Woman, as his mind liked to refer to it, didn't even hatch in his imagination until several weeks after the happy couple went official when his father sent him out to deliver a heavy load of pies to the local tavern.

"Son, there be some very impor'nt people in this here village t'night." The baker told him as he secured the cotton bundle around his son's back and then ruffled the boy's hair. "You'll watch your step as you go, won't you m'boy?"

"Yeah, whatever," Peeta had replied in an irritated tone, because he was sixteen and believed himself to be far too independent for the old man's worries. "I'll see you later."

There are two ways to get to the tavern from the bakery. The first and quickest route involves cutting through the village's backstreets and winding around the houses to get there. It also meant passing the blacksmith's, which was conveniently situated right beside the Everdeen residence. Peeta, heartbroken as he was, was sure that he couldn't face that. Instead, he opted to take the longer way, out into the village and around the harbour.

The wind that night was cold and chilly. The fog from the sea rolled in thick and fast. It was dark, and the silver crescent of the moon in the sky was tossed about haphazardly upon the thick storm clouds, often barely visible. Peeta pulled his thick leather jacket tighter around his shoulders, quickened his pace and fought off his shivers. The faster he dropped the darn pies off, the sooner he could get home and sleep. Well, sleep or alternatively spend yet another night lamenting over his lost love. To him, both options sounded equally appealing.

Taking a right, he turned out into the main part of the port. Even this late the workmen there were still up and busy, tying the boats more securely to their posts in anticipation of the storm that was bound to strike that night. Peeta hurried through, tried to stay out of their way as best he could. Usually at this hour the men were tired and irritable, fingers numb from the cold and muscles aching from the strain of hours worth of work.

"Steve," one man shouted to another across the wooden pier. "Steve, lad. We'd better take care o' the big'un first. This thing goes down n' there'll be hell to pay for us."

Another man, presumably Steve, nodded in agreement. "You're not wrong there, lad. These here are a nasty lot, these. I wouldn' want t' cross'em."

Together, the two set to work on tying complex looking knots into the rope that hung between the thick wooden post and the largest boat in the port. It was a huge wooden vessel, it's watch tower and mainmast standing up higher than any other. Dangerously high, and the riggings that cascaded down looked unstable and hazardous even from where Peeta stood. This, coupled with the conversation of the two port-men and the warnings given to him from his father, could only mean one thing: there were pirates in town.

* * *

The tavern was crowded, packed full of toothless old men slamming pint glasses down on the table in front of them as they spoke, making the sticky orange liquid slosh out over the sides. Peeta pushed his way through the throngs of people to the bar, untying the pack from his back and slinging it down on the counter.

"Hey, lady," he called out to the barmaid rudely, knowing from experience that when you're as young and handsome as he was, the cold approach was the only one you can use if you don't want her tongue shoved down your throat or worse. "Can you go fetch the manager down here or something? I need to collect money for this order."

Turning to him, the woman raised her eyebrows. "You've only just got here and you're trying to get away so soon?" She pouted and pushed her breasts out further, giving him an even fuller displaying her heavy cleavage with a wicked smile.

This barmaid had been trying to seduce him from the ripe young age of thirteen when he first got entrusted the duty of dropping off the pies to the tavern. According to her, she liked Peeta so much because he wasn't like all of the other feckless cads that took advantage of her. In fact, she saw him as something of a challenge and was undeterred by any and all attempts to evade her advances. Even when he told her that his heart belonged to another, she had simply rolled her eyes and muttered "who's doesn't?"

"Christ, Delly. Cut that out already. I'm only sixteen!" Peeta exclaimed as he did his best to avert his eyes and shook his head firmly. "Just go and get Snow, would you? I've got places I need to be."

"You sure about that, sugar?" she crooned, leaning forwards to leer at him until he blushed a deep crimson. Only then did she retreat up the backstairs to fetch down the old man who ran the place. When she was firmly out of sight, the other men standing up at the bar shot Peeta impressed smirks and a few even clapped him on the back in admiration.

"You've got that one's heart there alright, son," remarked a rosy-cheeked man with chapped lips and wrinkled bags around his eyes. "I remember when I had'em lasses fallin' over me like that. I was a strappin' young lad in my day, me."

"I'm sure you were," Peeta replied dryly, making a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. These old sailors, they were all the same, full of nothing but tales of their lust-ridden youth with no woman on their arm to prove anything.

The boy was more than a little relieved when Snow appeared, coughing and wheezing from the simple walk down the narrow staircase. He was getting old fast. With shaky fingers, he dropped a small cotton bag of sixpences down in front of Peeta.

Had it been anyone else, the boy would have insisted on counting out the money to check that every penny was there. He didn't here, though. Snow wasn't just an old man, he was also an old customer. Peeta had known the man since he was four, and everyone in the whole village knew that he was honest, if nothing else. He'd never try to cheat someone out of their money.

"Send your father my thanks for the pies," the old man rasped. His voice was lower and more gravelly than Peeta remembered it, now as haggard and worn out as his face. The boy nodded, picked up the bag and slipped it into his pocket before turning and leaving.

At his back, Delly huffed a disappointed sigh.

* * *

That night, much like every other night of late, Peeta curled up under his thin blanket and did not sleep. He couldn't. There was a storm outside, and the sounds of thunder and heavy rain seemed to seep into the room from every direction. Every now and again a bolt of lightning would crack near by, illuminating his surroundings in a vicious flash of ghostly pale light that threw eerie shadows across the room.

It wasn't that Peeta was scared, as such. He's just never been all too fond of storms like this, and everything mildly bad seems a million times worse when you're heartbroken.

In the bunk above him, his brother was snoring loudly. Usually this didn't bother him – like the smell of fish that surrounded the town, he had grown used to it – but in light of recent events he found it more than slightly distracting. He rolled over in place, tried to will his body to relax so he could sleep, but all to no avail.

His mind was running in circles around something. Everything. It wouldn't just settle on one subject but flickered between several. Katniss. The storm. Katniss. The pirates. Gale's stupid and obnoxiously perfect face. Repeat.

Somehow he couldn't help but think that they were all somehow related. Of course they were. For starters, the storm was what had brought the pirates into the harbour in the first place. It was so heavy that sailing in it would have been too dangerous, even for them. Naturally, Katniss and Gale were linked – Peeta cringed to himself at his own use of that word in this context – because they were together and ruining his life.

All he needed was to find the missing piece in the puzzle, to figure out what the pirates could possibly have to do with him winning the heart of the girl he so desired. The problem was that Gale already had everything she wanted. He was tall, handsome, funny and she liked him.

He sighed, giving in letting his mind wander to far away fantasies of pirate ships and buried treasure. Wait. Treasure. He jerked upright in bed, eyes wide. Suddenly a flare of hope had blossomed in the very core of his chest. Love is measured in grand gestures, and what could be more grand than treasure?

That was it. He would climb aboard the ship before it set sail again tomorrow. They were pirates, after all, they were bound to have some loot stashed somewhere below deck. He would go out on a limb for her, risk everything for her and he would bring her back treasure. That would surely win her heart.

* * *

A little before sunrise the next day, Peeta awoke with a start. It took him a moment or two to remember his half-formed plans from late the night before, but they quickly came flooding back to him. Strangely enough, they seemed just as valid to him now as they had back then. Maybe if he'd have stayed in bed and thought it out more carefully, taken a moment to consider just how moronic he was being, he wouldn't have landed up where he did.

As it were, he didn't. Instead, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, hauled himself upright and tugged a pair of jeans and a loose fitting white shirt on. His brother grumbled sleepily that he needed to keep the noise down, god damn it, and he bit back his laughter, feeling brighter and more optimistic than he had in a long time. Totally ready to go out there and win some hearts.

He slipped silently out through the front door of the bakery and into the misty morning. He eyed the horizon line in search of any traces of the sun. So far, there were none. That meant he probably had about an hour before his father would be up and ready to get to work for the day. He'd have to hurry to get there and back in time but, as he kept repeating to himself, this would all be worth it in the end.

Of course, the workers at the dock were already awake and doing damage control from the storm the night before. They hauled the heavy pieces of drift wood off the pier and back into the ocean, let ropes loose and checked to see that all of the boats were still in one piece. Apparently, or at least as far as he could tell, they were.

As inconspicuously as possible, Peeta slunk onto the dock, trying his best to blend in with all the other workers. He slowly edged towards the tall boat that stood proudly in the middle of the harbour, nodding a casual greeting to a few people that passed him. They shot him confused looks, but nodded back.

He was only a few feet away when he noticed a burly looking man watching him. The sailor was covered from his neck down in tattoos, and his bulging muscles rippled beneath his shirt with every move he made. The way he was staring at Peeta made the boy uneasy, his mind telling him to get out quick, that this man was onto him.

The only thing that stopped him from running was that memory of Katniss and Gale. Damn them both. He couldn't give up now. This was his only shot. Swallowing his nerves, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Steve!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Steve, where the hell are you, lad?"

There was a pause for a few seconds, and several people looked around at him. He wondered if they could hear is heart thumping rampantly in his chest. He hoped not.

"Did someone call for me?" a voice yelled back, and then a confused looking head popped up from behind a large wooden barrel. Peeta breathed a sigh of relief.

"Steve," he said, strolling over to the man with as much confidence as he could muster. "You helped to tie the knots on the, uh… The big'un last night, didn't you lad?" He waited for the man to nod worriedly before continuing. "I just wanted to say good job to you. Your knotting has gotten much neater."

Grinning at this, Steve thanked him. "Thank you, m'boy," the man replied with earnest gratitude. "I've been workin' real hard on 'em."

Peeta nodded, smiled and then turned away, satisfied to note that Mr. Muscles across the deck was no longer watching him. Mission accomplished. Well, almost. He quickly closed the gap between himself and the pirate ship, darted his eyes around to check that the coast was clear and then ducked his way on board.

All he had to do now was find the treasure and get out of there. How hard could it be?

* * *

**A/N: **Hello (again) everyone! I'm planning on writing five parts to this story, which will hopefully be posted in quick succession of each other. I'd like it very much if you would leave me a review to let me know what you think as any and all feedback makes this so much more fun to write. I do understand, though, that some people don't want to or don't have the time and that's fine too. Have a lovely day, and thank you for taking a little time out of it for reading this!


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